Italia and Bratva
by Inkblooded Witch
Summary: Meet Feliciano and Lovino, the Vargas brothers. Roma is still the Don, but the twins have gradually taken over most of the business. They're good at it. Very good. Sadly, they also have what enemy's might perceive to be 'weak points'. It's a shame when those enemy's realize just how far they underestimate the Vargas family. Sucky description, sorry. GerIta, Spamio, and RusAme.
1. Chapter 1

**One of my rare, completed plot bunnies, yay! :P**

 **Be warned, this is my first GerIta fic, so be nice. And I toughened up the Italy brothers just a little, to fit the story better. I would say it's my first Spamio, but I was an unofficial Beta for a friend of mine for a long story where that was the primary pairing. 'Hoist the Colors High', if you haven't heard of it. I don't have much experience with RusAmer either, but I'm working on a few plot bunnies with it.**

 **In short, this fic is experimental on many levels, in regards to pairings and Au.**

 ***Will update at least once a day! :)**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

It was raining when Lovino ducked into the restaurant. He shook himself off, removing his broad brimmed hat and feeling a little too much like a wet cat. They knew him here, of course, the hostess hurrying over with a smile and offering to take his wet coat. Lovino normally had little patience for chatter, but this hostess was a good one, she was nice and Antonio didn't like it when he was mean to the staff. Besides, this one he actually liked. For whatever reason, it was easier to like females than males, especially the pretty ones.

Once he was seated in his usual booth at the back, the hostess hurried away to get a server for him. Not to take his order, but to put it in and bring him his drink. Lovino was a creature of habit, and the staff here had learned that if you just went with it and didn't speak much around him he was both an easy customer and generous tipper. Considering most of the servers here were college kids, it was incentive enough.

Lovino was sipping his wine when Antonio came out of the back, wiping his hands on a cloth. He beamed when he saw Lovino, coming over to his booth. "Lovi! What are you doing here? I know you come every day, but it's raining cats and dogs. Shouldn't you have stayed in or-

"I come here every day, _bastardo_ ," Lovino stated, taking another sip of wine. "You know that. Rain or shine. You should know that by now."

The Spaniard just continued to smile, unflappable good mood still in place. "I know, but it's always good to see you." In a lower voice, he added, "You didn't come home last night, Lovi. I was worried."

Lovino slowly rotated the stem of his wine glass. "I know. Business ran late. I'll be home tonight."

"Promise?"

"You know I can't."

"What if I make that special tomato risotto?"

The Italian sighed. "You can promise me whatever you want, but if an emergency comes up I'm not going to make it. I'm not going to make you a promise I won't be able to follow through on, Antonio. All I can give you is my word that I will try."

Antonio pouted, but didn't argue further. He was all too aware of what Lovino did, what his family was. It was how they'd met, after all. The Vargas family ran the neighborhood, and one of the gangs they owned had been going around trying to extort 'protection' fees behind their boss's back. Lovino had found out, but not before his top gang had gotten their asses handed to them by the Spaniard. He hadn't been thrilled to find a former Don in his territory, but the more time he spent around Antonio, the less he wanted to shoot the man. Antonio ran a simple, but very popular, Spanish restaurant. The locals liked him, his staff liked him, and the only people who spoke ill of him were those who had tried to strong-arm him into paying a protection fee. Antonio had left Spain after being the Don for only a year. He'd left behind money, power, and a name. He'd come to America with little and made a new life, and had just bought the restaurant when Lovino's gang had targeted him.

That was two years ago. With some coaxing, Antonio had agreed to move in with Lovino. The Spaniard had refused to live in the Vargas's estate, so they had compromised with a modest house that had a small tomato garden. Lovino didn't like admitting he loved anyone, even to himself, but he did love Antonio. Very much.

"How's business?" Lovino asked, glancing around the half empty restaurant.

"As good as ever. You should see it during those lunch rushes you avoid," teased Antonio, green eyes twinkling.

Lovino grunted, but frowned as something caught his eye. He reached out, catching his lover's wrist, pulling it around. Ignoring Antonio's protests of, "Lovi, it's nothing. Don't worry about it," he pulled the hand closer for inspection. A small bandage was wrapped around a finger, one much too thick for a paper cut. Lifting olive green eyes to the taller man, Lovino asked, "What the hell?"

Antonio sighed, pulling his hand away. "I cut myself during prep this morning, Lovi. I told you, it's nothing. You worry too much."

On the contrary, Lovino wondered if he didn't worry enough. The Vargas family had made enemy's as they expanded, growing bigger and stronger at a gradual pace. They had a truce of sorts with the Russian's, a line neither group had crossed yet simply because if they did end up in a war it would be a blood bath. The other groups had either been sent packing already or had yet to try something, but the Russians were their biggest threat. Ivan wasn't known for his sanity, and had a record for playing dirty. Lovino knew that, if things did go sour with the Russians, Antonio would sport a very large target. He was a former Don, he knew how these things worked, he had skills, but he wasn't a match for a well placed bullet or blade.

They talked until Lovino's food came out, and Antonio retreated to the kitchen to help get ready for the lunch rush. Before he left, the Italian caught his lover's hand, lightly kissing the back of it before letting it go. No one who mattered was ever here, so he felt he could allow that much. Lovino loathed PDA, especially if he was involved, but every now and then he allowed something small, if only because it made Antonio happy.

On the other side of town, Feliciano was humming happily, carefully unpacking a basket as thunder boomed overhead. He was in the small break room of a butcher's shop, but he didn't care. Like his brother, he made a point to spend lunch with someone special to him.

"Smells _gut_ ," said Ludwig, tromping into the back room. "You don't have to do this every day, Feli."

Feliciano beamed, bouncing forward to peck his boyfriend on the cheek. "But I want to, Luddy. Sit, rest, eat. How has your day been?"

"Fine. There has been a good flow of customers. I think you have more excitement than I do."

"Sometimes, but not today. Mostly boring old paperwork. It was nice to have an excuse to get out. I was thinking about making spaghetti tonight, with the Italian sausage in the sauce. Labskaus, too, with wurst. I should be able to get away early, so I will be able to make it. What do you think?"

Ludwig arched his eyebrows a little. Labskaus, essentially German hash, was a personal favorite. He hadn't been enthusiastic about Italian food when they'd first met, but Feliciano was a very good cook. The spaghetti, with homemade Italian sausage, was something he always made sure to complement his boyfriend on. That said...Feliciano might be a food nut, but it wasn't often he made their shared favorites in one night.

"Are you sure? What's the occasion? I didn't think there were any approaching holidays."

"No, no occasion. Just because. And it's been a long time since we've had dinner together too, a night in. What do you think?"

"If you need to work, Feli, then-

"That's the good part! I know I can leave sooner today, much sooner. Then we can have dinner and have a whole night, just you and me Luddy. It's been much too long since the last time. I want to spend time with you, Ludwig. Now we can finally have us time, and sex. We haven't had sex in weeks."

Ludwig choked on his sandwich, a bright red flush quickly climbing his face. "Feli," he muttered, clearing his throat.

"It's true," Feliciano pouted. "I miss it, and I know you do too. What do you say, Luddy."

The blond sighed. He had long since accepted that Feliciano was the opposite of him in many areas, the lack of subtlety just one of many, but he still loved him. Ludwig knew what the Vargas family did, he always had. Germania had taken no part in their business, but was old friends with Roma, the twin's grandfather. Ludwig didn't exactly approve of what Feliciano did, but he still loved him.

These days, Ludwig had accepted what Feliciano did, and was more than happy to keep his nose out of it. His biggest complaint was that it could occupy the Italian for extensive periods of time. Most recently, it had kept him busy for days on end. On the occasion he did get a break, Feliciano often spent it sleeping. Ludwig didn't blame him, really, but he did miss him. A night in with his boyfriend would be nice. A home cooked meal, a night in, a bottle of wine for Feliciano and a few beers for him...maybe some long overdue sex...yes, it did sound very nice.

" _Ja_. I would like that. Do you have everything you need, or will I need to pick up some ingredients?"

"Ah, I don't know. I'll see when I get home."

Ludwig smiled patiently. Feliciano was the sort to live on the moment, when work wasn't involved. From the sound of it, he'd have to go over the recipes and make sure the kitchen was stocked on his own. He didn't mind, though. He was used to it, and he liked feeling useful in the kitchen.

 **BREAK/BREAK\BREAK**

Feliciano got in a little later than he thought he would, but it was still earlier than he'd gotten home all week. He was humming cheerfully, letting himself into the cozy house he shared with Ludwig, briefcase in hand. He could kiss his boyfriend, stash the case in the safe in his office, and then start searching the kitchen. It was a little late, yes, but not so late they would have to change their plans, right?

"Luddy? I'm home!" he called, shutting the front door. "Did Gilbert barrow your truck again? It wasn't in the driveway."

No answer. The dogs rushed out to greet him, as they always did. Blackie, Berlitz, and Aster were thrilled to see him, as always. But once he'd pet the dogs and shooed them away, it occurred to him that he hadn't heard anything from Ludwig yet. Feliciano felt his mood waver slightly, peering around the house. He finally noticed that the only light on was a hall lamp that was on a timer. None of the other lights were on. Slowly, heart sinking, he shifted the briefcase to his left hand, drawing his gun with his right.

"Ludwig?" he called again, uneasy. The dogs were well trained, they would attack an intruder if one had so much tried to stick a toe through a window, never mind do something to their master. They loved Ludwig as much as Feliciano did.

Still nothing. Ludwig only ignored him if he couldn't hear him. Feliciano couldn't hear the shower running, and his boyfriend was too light a sleeper to doze through his shouting. Swallowing tightly, he moved through the house, covering each room carefully, turning on lights as he went. He swept the entire house, but found no trace of Ludwig. There was nothing that said his boyfriend had even made it home. The truck at least hadn't worried him, but this sure did. It wouldn't be the first time his elder brother barrowed it for something. If he'd needed to barrow it from work, Ludwig would have texted to let him know. Feliciano checked his phone, nothing.

Quickly putting his briefcase away, Feliciano left the house again, letting the dogs out into the backyard and hitting Ludwig's speed dial, heart in his throat. Nothing. He shot him a quick text, 'Where are you?', then called Lovino, climbing back into his car.

His brother picked up after the fourth, painfully long ring. "What?" he demanded. "I'm busy."

"Ludwig's gone, Lovi. I don't know where he is."

"Have you tried calling the potato _bastardo_?"

"I-

He was cut off as his phone buzzed, another call coming in. He checked the caller ID, panic spiking as he read the name of the local hospital.

Switching lines as quickly as he could, he asked shakily, _"_ _Ciao?_ _"_

There was a pause, then, "Mr. Vargas?"

" _Sì_ , who is this?" Feliciano demanded. Normally he was the nicer twin, but right now he wasn't in the mood.

"You were listed as the emergency contact for Mr. Ludwig Belishmet?" asked the shaky nurse. The Vargas family were generous with the hospital, everyone on staff knew them quite well, or at least knew _of_ them. Roma was of the opinion that, since they provided a steady stream of patients that hadn't slowed in several decades, they should provide help where they could. Besides, they quickly weeded out anyone corrupt in resident, ensuring their money went to just causes only.

"Where is he, what happened?"

"I...I'm sorry, Mr. Vargas. He's currently stable, but he was in very bad shape when they brought him in. It was touch and go for a little while, but he's predicted to make a full recovery."

Feliciano closed his eyes, slumping in his seat, running a hand back through his hair. " _Grazie_ , _signora_. I will be there soon. Make sure the doctor is on hand, I want to speak with him personally."

"Of course, Mr. Vargas."

Feliciano hung up, switching back to Lovino. He was a little surprised when his brother was still there.

"Lovi?"

"What the hell is it?" his brother demanded.

In the background, Feliciano could hear Antonio protesting. "Why are we in the panic room? What's going on? Say something, Lovi."

"Ludwig is in the hospital. They said he's stable, but...I'm going. Keep Antonio away from doors and windows until we get some answers. Call _Nonno_ , tell him what's going on."

" _Sì_ , _sì_. Damn, who the fuck did this?"

"That's what I'm going to find out."

Feliciano hung up, and floored the accelerator. He knew his driving was considered eccentric by most, but in situations like this it worked in his favor. So did his Italian car.

Normally, it took about twenty minutes to reach the hospital. Feliciano made it in eight. In ten, he was striding through the hospital, marching to the nurse's station in the ICU.

"Where is Ludwig Belishmet?" he asked stiffly.

The nurse opened her mouth, then turned to focus on something just over his shoulder. Feliciano turned, facing an older man in a white coat. He relaxed a little, recognizing him. Ludwig was in good hands, at least.

"Mr. Vargas," said Dr. Stanton, nodding to the shorter man. "Please, this way. Mr. Belishmet is resting comfortably. It might be a few hours before he wakes up, but we were able to get him out of the danger zone."

"Thank you. Your work has always been credible. What was his condition when he arrived?"

"In a word? Critical. We had to do several transfusions before anything else. All the fingers on his left hand were broken, there was massive hemorrhaging to the skull, broken right leg, six broken ribs, four cracked, and a dislocated right arm. For what it's worth, it looked like he put up a fight. His knuckles were injured as well, but in a way you see after a bar brawl. Whoever did this, they won't look very good themselves."

It was meant to be reassuring, and it was, but still. Ludwig was still lying in a bed in the ICU. Swallowing tightly, Feliciano asked, "When did he arrive?"

"Approximately two thirty four. Normally I leave it to police, but considering the circumstances I asked around. They found him after someone made a nine-one-one call. No one said anything, just dialed on a burner phone and left it next to him."

Feliciano took a shaky breath as they stopped outside one of the privet rooms. He was almost afraid to go in. Shootouts, drug dealers, and gangbangers he could handle, but this? This was Ludwig. The man he loved dearly, the man he hoped to convince to marry someday. The thought of him getting hurt to such an extent...

"I'd like to keep him here for a week or so, just to be sure there were no ill effects from the head trauma. I've ordered a CAT scan, just to be sure, but I'd still like to keep an eye on him."

"Of course. _Grazie_ , doctor."

Dr. Stanton nodded, stepping away. "If you need anything, let me or the nurses know."

Feliciano nodded, wrapping his fingers around the door handle. Taking a deep breath, he pushed it open as the doctor left him, stepping inside. The room itself was only half lit, enough for the nurses to do what they needed to when they checked on him. The monitors beeped steadily, the sound both reassuring and heart wrenching.

Slowly, Feliciano shut the door, stepping over to the bed. Ludwig was out cold, the heart monitor and the slow rise and fall of his chest the only indicators of life. Feliciano had seen Ludwig after a bar brawl once, when he'd made the mistake of going out with Gilbert when his elder brother was in the mood for a celebration. The only marks on him had been the scrapes on his knuckles and a bruise on his jaw, nothing else. He'd held his own to say the least. Later Feliciano had heard of the dozen drunken men in a holding cell, when they'd had to bail out Gilbert. Not only had Ludwig fended them all off, he'd extracted himself before the police came. Normally he would have hauled Gilbert after him, but apparently the albino had disappeared only to get picked up by the police.

That was nothing compared to now, not even close. Ludwig's nose was broken, his eye swollen, head bandaged. Both hands bandaged around the knuckles, each finger on his left hand carefully splinted, his right arm in a sling, left leg encased in plaster. His face was almost unrecognizable, an IV trailing to his left arm.

Feliciano shuffled over to the bed, throat tight. He sank into the chair at Ludwig's side, vision going blurry. He reached out, carefully taking his right hand, careful not to jostle his arm.

" _Mi dispiace_ , Luddy," he said quietly, sniffing as tears rolled down his cheeks. "I'm so sorry. I'll find who did this, I promise you."

He didn't know how long it would be before Roma came. When that happened, he couldn't afford tears. The twins were more emotional than most were aware of, something they liked to keep under wraps. Lovino especially. Feliciano had been aware Ludwig getting hurt was a risk, but he'd taken precautions, he and his brother. They went out of their way to protect them. That Ludwig had gotten hurt, and in such a way that was an obvious warning, killed him. The only question would be who did this, at which point he would take great pleasure in returning the favor tenfold.

Reaching up, Feliciano gently brushed a few stray strands of blond hair from Ludwig's forehead. Cracking a wobbly smile, he said quietly, " _Io li trova, e farò pagare_. _Essi potranno soffrire per questo, lo giuro_. _Riposo, guarire, e torna da me,_ Luddy _._ _Questo è tutto quello che ti chiedo_. _Perfavore, ti amo Ludwig. It amo._ "

* * *

 ** _gut_ \- good**

 ** _ja_ \- yes**

 ** _Ciao?_ \- hello?**

 ** _Sì_ \- Yes**

 ** _Grazie_ \- thank you**

 ** _signora_ \- Ms**

 ** _Nonno_ \- grandpa**

 ** _Mi dispiace_ \- I'm sorry**

 ** _Io li trova, e farò pagare. Essi potranno soffrire per questo, lo giuro. Riposo, guarire, e torna da me, Luddy. Questo è tutto quello che ti chiedo. Perfavore, ti amo Ludwig. It amo._ \- I will find them, and I will make them pay. They will suffer for this, I swear it. Rest, heal, and come back to me, Luddy. That's all I ask of you. Please, I love you Ludwig. I love you.**

 **[]**

 **Please Review!**


	2. Chapter 2

**I'm feeling generous today- two updates! :)**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

It was the next day before Ludwig woke up. Feliciano was dozing in the same chair he'd been in all night when he felt the blond stir. He lifted his head, breaking into a wide smile as he saw glacial blue eyes flicker open.

"How do you feel?" he asked hopefully.

"Not good," said Ludwig stiffly, voice raspy. "What happened?"

"Bad men attacked you. You're safe now, you're in the hospital. A good doctor is taking care of you."

Ludwig frowned, looking down at himself. One eye was still swollen, but not so much he couldn't use it. After taking an inventory of the damage, he turned his attention to Feliciano.

"How long have I been here?"

"Since yesterday. It's only eight in the morning, you were out for just over twelve hours. Is something bothering you?"

" _Ja._ "

"Should we call the nurse? Get your some more morphine?" asked Feliciano worriedly, already reaching for the button.

" _Nein_ , not that," said the German, reaching out to stop him with splinted fingers. "I'm a little sore, but the pain has not returned yet. What's bothering me is what happened."

"What _did_ happen?" asked Feliciano, slowly pulling his hand away. "Who did this to you, Luddy?"

Ludwig's mouth tightened. "I was cleaning out the back room, throwing away boxes and trash so we could work on the morning's shipment. Some men approached me when I was behind the shop. They asked if I was Ludwig Belishmet. I asked them what they wanted. They didn't say, just attacked me." He took a shaky breath, but it was more irritated than upset. "They were good, and there were six of them. I think I broke a nose, dislocated a jaw maybe, but nothing major. Cowards pinned me down, were angry I'd defended myself. Apparently they were only supposed to knock me around a little, but they said I needed to pay for making them bleed."

He smiled then. It was a bitter smile, but a smile nonetheless. "I might have made the mistake of insulting their breeding. That's when they broke my fingers. When they were done, one of them called 911 on his phone, said their boss just wanted to make a point. Before I passed out, one of them said to tell you Braginski sends their regards."

Stiffly, trying to contain his rage, Feliciano asked, "They were Russian?"

"Most were locals who had been turned," Ludwig admitted. "But two were definitely Russian. I thought you had a truce with them, and the shop was in your territory. What's going on, Feli?"

Feliciano took a deep breath, then smiled at Ludwig. "Nothing for you to worry about, Luddy. We're taking care of it and Dr. Stanton is taking care of you. We've vetted all the staff, and we have guards who will be keeping an eye on you, just in case."

"What do you mean, taking care of it?" asked Ludwig wearily.

"You were right about that truce. Well, it was more like a cease fire, but either way, the Russians broke it."

"You can't have a war, not because of me," the blond protested, struggling to sit up. "You said the whole reason behind the cease fire was because there would be too many lives lost."

Feliciano stood, gently pushing Ludwig back down. "It's not just because of that, Luddy. They broke our arrangement. That can't be overlooked, especially since this was a targeted attack. They sought you out, Ludwig. They know who you are to me. I'm sorry, it's my fault they were able to get to you."

Ludwig was already shaking his head. " _Nein_ , it was not. You offered many times, more protection, more security. I knew the risks, I still said no. Perhaps we can reach a compromise when I get out, but I refuse to live my life in fear. I let my guard down, they wouldn't have cornered me otherwise." Then something occurred to him, and he started to sit up again. "Gilbert, where is Gilbert?"

Again, the Italian pushed him back down. "Gilbert is fine. We have guards on him too. He came here, last night and this morning. Your grandfather too, he stepped out a minute ago to find a bathroom. I was supposed to call as soon as you woke up. There's nothing to worry about, Ludwig. Just relax, rest. I'll take care of everything, I promise."

Reluctantly, Ludwig laid back on the bed, face grim. "I hate just laying here," he muttered.

"But you need to, if you're going to be any better."

Ludwig was still brooding about this when the door opened, a nurse stepping in, Germania on her heels. The older man's weary face relaxed in relief when he saw his grandson was awake. He strode briskly to the bedside, the nurse puttering about, checking readouts and whatnot.

"How are you feeling?" Germania asked gruffly, putting a hand on his grandson's good arm.

Cracking a wry smile, Ludwig said, "I think I feel better than I look. I'm sorry if I worried you, _Opa_."

"You're in no place to be apologizing," Germania scolded.

"Any aches, pains?" the nurse asked, changing the IV bag.

"Some, yes. My head hurts."

"That's to be expected. We're going to get a CAT scan soon, after that we should be able to give you a more suitable dose of morphine."

Germania stepped back, letting her check Ludwig's many injuries. As she retrieved fresh bandages to re-wrap his head and hands, Feliciano placed a careful kiss on the less bruised cheek.

"I'll be back tonight, Luddy. Promise."

"I'll be fine, Feli," said Ludwig, heaving a weary sigh, then wincing. "I have a feeling I'll be pestered enough as it is."

Feliciano cracked a smile, stepping out. He strode back towards the exit, checking his phone. Nothing from Roma or Lovino yet. He sent a quick text to Gilbert, 'He's awake.', before pocketing his phone. As he stepped into the parking lot, he returned his fedora to his head, taking out his keys, face uncharacteristically grim.

He had work to do.

 **BREAK/BREAK\BREAK**

Lovino and Roma had arrived shortly after Ludwig's grandfather and brother the night before. Feliciano had stepped out to speak with them when the doctor came by to check on him one last time for the night, and to speak with the direct family. The arrangement had been too much like a warning, and that was something the Vargas family couldn't allow to slide.

"I checked around," said Roma grimly, as they hovered just outside the hospital doors. "A few people came into the clinic nearest to their shop. Minor wounds mostly, but one had a dislocated jaw, another a broken nose. All six of them have affiliations with the Russians. Try to confirm it when he wakes up, but unfortunately it fits."

"Filthy _bastardi_ ," Lovino growled. "We can't just turn a blind eye. What if they come after Antonio next? Or one of us? Targeting one of our businesses or shipments would be bad enough, but this?"

"We've put guards with Gilbert, and Antonio will be moved to our place," said Roma. "Have him call in sick to work, at least until we get this figured out. I'd like to do the same for Germania, but we all know he won't do that. Certainly not with Ludwig here."

It wasn't something they spoke of, but something they all knew about. Over time, as their wives and children died, their grandchildren growing up to take over their businesses, the two old friends had slowly grown closer and closer. Roma was paranoid, but then Germania had been the equivalent of German black ops in his day, before coming to America. No one knew he was the Don's lover, but anyone who tried anything would get a nasty surprise.

"If Braginski ordered this, you know who it had to be," said Lovino, pacing now. "That fucking _bastardo_ Ivan. He had to know we would retaliate."

" _Sì_ , I agree. But we also can't simply start an outright war, not yet anyway. We'll do a little research. Feliciano, stay here for now. Join us after he wakes up. They found our weak points, let's see if he has any of his own."

That had been thirteen hours ago. Now, as Feliciano joined them in Roma's office, he found the Vargas family had not been idle. Ivan was notorious for being something of a sociopath. He was a hands on Don, as infamous for his laugh and dark aura as he was his pipe. That said, even sociopathic Russian's had weak points.

"Ludwig confirmed it," said Feliciano, closing the door behind him. "It was Braginski."

Lovino cursed. "I knew it."

"Were you able to find anything?" asked the younger of the twins, coming around to look over Roma's shoulder at is computer.

Roma chuckled, handing him a file. "Of course. We have many good people in many places."

Feliciano opened the file, and was a little surprised. He'd expected something on one of Ivan's sisters, or his lieutenant Yao. Yao was the most normal of the four, but he was extremely loyal. Ivan's younger sister, Natalia, was just as insane and very good with her knives. His older sister wasn't very involved, and he kept her well protected, but he had been under the impression the Russian hadn't had any other soft spots.

But when he opened the file, the first thing he saw was a printout of a student ID from the local college. The picture was of a young man with blond hair and bright blue eyes behind rimless glasses, a cocky smile on his lips. Fascinated, Feliciano started to read over the file.

"Alfred Jones?" he asked absently as he read.

" _Sì_ ," said Roma, eyes glittering darkly. "It seems Ivan has a companion of his own. His name came up when we searched for deposits not for business made by Braginski's shell companies. Some of them were made to the college for tuition and books for Alfred Jones. We barrowed the camera's outside his apartment building. It seems Braginski is a regular."

Feliciano made a thoughtful noise. Mmm, interesting. This Alfred was only nineteen, but he kept his nose clean, and he made good grades it seemed. The reports from both the police and the school were much the same, not so much as parking ticket, good student, 3.9 GPA, well liked by most everybody. He worked as a bartender in a local bar, had been for the last year. He was always on time, picked up extra shifts, paid his rent on time, more or less going out of his way to stay off bad radars. Over all, it seemed the only negative point about this Jones was that he'd made the mistake of spending time with Braginski. It was a shame. Parents still in Texas, where he'd moved from with his twin brother for school. He shared his small apartment with the same brother...

"Mathew," said Feliciano in surprise, looking up. "He's Mathew's brother?"

Roma snapped his fingers. "I knew that name sounded familiar. That's Gilbert's boyfriend, isn't it?"

Feliciano nodded, sighing sadly. He liked Mathew, the few times he'd met him. Quiet, shy, but nice. He hoped they wouldn't have to do anything too bad to Alfred, if only for Mathew's sake.

"What do you think?" he asked, setting down the file.

"Should we repay the favor?" suggested Lovino.

"Yes, but perhaps with a bit less blood," said Roma thoughtfully. "At least for now. I don't think Alfred knows what Braginski is. The less innocent blood we shed, the better. No, I think I have a better idea."

 **BREAK/BREAK\BREAK**

A few hours later, the Vargas brothers stepped through the door of Raven's Landing, one of the more popular of the local bars. This one served lunch, but it was still just nine on a Saturday. It was empty, save for an older man in a corner nursing a cup of coffee while he worked a crossword puzzle. Perfect.

"Hey! Take a seat wherever you like. What can I get you fella's?" a cheerful voice asked them from behind the bar.

They took up stools at the bar, across from where Alfred was cleaning glasses. He was handsome close up, but personally he wasn't quite Feliciano's type. He did have a soft spot for blue eyes and blond hair, but this wasn't Ludwig.

Returning the bright smile offered by the oblivious bartender, Feliciano said, "Two of the house wine, _per favore_. Actually, we were hoping to speak with you. Ivan is a friend of ours, and we heard his boyfriend worked here."

Alfred took down two wine glasses, glancing back at them. "No kidding? You know Ivan?"

" _Sì_. We've known him for years. We're...business associates," said Feliciano, setting his hat on the bar.

Lovino, who was using most of his energy to pretend he wasn't seething, stayed silent. It was how they worked, usually. Lovino was behind the scenes, pulling strings, running the numbers, cracking the whip where it was needed. Feliciano was the people person, he could smile and charm his way with new clients and behaving assets. This was how they always did things, it worked and both brothers were content with their rolls.

"Cool. Ivan doesn't talk about work much," noted Alfred, setting beverage napkins down and pouring their wine. "He's pretty privet about that kind of stuff. I think half the reason he likes to hang around me is to get away from it."

Feliciano chuckled. "Yes, it can be stressful. I can't blame him. It's been a while since we've met in person, though. How's he doing? Good, I hope?"

Alfred, back to cleaning the glasses, shrugged. "I think so. I haven't seen him in a few days. I think he said something about a business trip. He was fine last I saw him."

Feliciano took a sip of his wine, trying not to clinch his hand on the delicate glass as Lovino outright gulped his. Braginski had ordered a hit on his lover then left town? He'd pegged the Russian as lot of things, but never a coward. He was too hands on. That, or he didn't consider them enough a threat. This was a new low.

"And how are his lovely sisters?"

Alfred considered this. "Well, I haven't met his younger one. Something about her being in the loony bin. Katyusha is nice, though. And I'm not just saying that because she's got huge knockers. She was finally able to open that bakery last month, so she was pretty excited about that."

This they had also known. Katyusha was considered a non-threat, and had even sent them some pastries when she'd opened the shop. It was a shame the place wasn't in their territory, she was an excellent baker.

"So, Alfred, if you don't mind my asking, how long have you been seeing Ivan? It's rare he takes an interest in anyone."

The blond blushed a little, focusing on his work as they drank their wine. "Uh, about eight months, I think. I've known him just over a year."

"Oh? Are things going well then? Forgive me, I'm Italian, we're a little too much like the French when it comes to _amore_. Besides, it's wonderful that our old friend has finally found someone. I remember when we had to twist his arm just to consider going out with someone."

And this was why they sent Feliciano in for interrogations more than Lovino. Torture someone, find leverage, and they'd tell you anything to make the pain stop or keep a loved one safe. But smile at them, make them think you likable and friendly and a bit ditzy, and they'd tell you anything.

"I guess so," said Alfred, moving some of the polished glasses to the shelf behind the bar. "I mean, I'd like to think so. Ivan's great, just a little reclusive. And pushy." He sighed, a little annoyed. "Don't get me wrong, he's a lot of things, most of them good, but I've met more compliant pit bulls. He went behind my back, and paid off some things for me and my brother, then he wouldn't let me pay him back. I didn't know about the him being rich thing until after I'd started dating him, I'm not in it for that, ya know? Was he always like that?"

The brothers exchanged a brief look. Ivan? Generous? Ha! Only when it came to his sisters. He rewarded success, ignored mere job completions, and punished failure almost as harshly as treachery and theft. He was well known for being one of the most brutal people on the streets. Only if you were loyal and excelled at your job did you receive some meager rewards. He was indiscriminant, only showing scraps of mercy when it came to the innocent families of those who incurred his wrath.

Still smiling, Feliciano chuckled. "Yes, I believe so. It's nice to hear he hasn't changed much."

"I'm kinda surprised he was still single, if he was always like that. Maybe it's just 'cause he's kind of intimidating to look at or something. I mean, _I_ know he's sweet, I'm pretty sure _you_ know that, but most people don't. This guy jumped out at us once, when we were coming back from a movie. I think he was going to try and mug us or something. I could 'a taken him. Anyway, he takes one look at Ivan, looks like he's about to wet himself, and runs away so fast you'd think someone lit his tail on fire. Weird, huh?"

"Very," agreed Feliciano, downing the last of his wine.

Oh, if only Alfred knew. The poor thing was truly oblivious. It was a shame, too. He seemed like a nice kid. Feliciano wouldn't enjoy it if they had to hurt him.

They paid their tab, and got up to leave. As they slipped out, Feliciano put his hat back on his head and said, "By the way, tell Ivan that the Vargas brothers send their regards, eh?"

Alfred beamed, waving as they left. "Sure thing! It was nice meeting ya'll!"

As soon as they stepped outside, Feliciano's personable smile melted into a sad one. He climbed into the back of their car with Lovino, glancing at the driver and man in the passenger seat. Step one was complete. Now on to step two.

"Did you get it?" grunted Lovino, scowling.

"Yes, boss. Making a copy now."

While the twins had been with Alfred up front, their companions had slipped in through the back. One had temporarily knocked out the camera's, the other had gotten into Alfred's locker. He'd made an imprint of his apartment key, which he used to make a spare as they drove to said apartment. The idea was to avoid killing an innocent fool who'd gone out with the wrong guy, but they could still warn Braginski effectively. Sometimes just knowing how easily something could be done was just as frightening as seeing the results of a half-hearted attempt.

The apartment complex wasn't the nicest in town, but it wasn't the seediest either. Knowing that Braginski liked to indulge his boyfriend, Feliciano wondered if he hadn't offered to get the brothers out of here. He quickly shook off the thought, focusing on the task at hand as they rode up the elevator. It wouldn't do to have such thoughts now. All it took was remembering Ludwig in that hospital bed to make it easier to keep them away. Two things took priority: family, and Ludwig. Nothing else mattered.

Mathew was away at his own job when they let themselves into the apartment. They had made sure of it. The two men in black guarded the door, the twins made their way through the apartment. It had two small bedrooms, one bathroom, one kitchen, one living room. It was easy enough to tell which bedroom was Alfred's, which half of the couch was his. Besides the simple fact one door had a maple leaf on it, the other the American flag, one was much more messy than the other. Feliciano might not know Mathew well, but he knew the quiet young man was the immaculate sort.

It took some careful picking around through the clutter, but Lovino found what they'd been looking for. Feliciano was fighting the urge to fold the scattered mess of clothes when his brother asked, "Think this will do?"

He stepped over, peering at the object in Lovino's hands. It was a simple pocket watch on a chain, old but well cared for. The brass was polished, not tarnished. When Lovino opened it, the device was ticking quietly away, apparently wound with persistent regularity. The inside of the lid engraved with the scrawling words, 'George Jones. Freedom Fighter. 1941.'

Feliciano nodded, turning to leave. "It will do. Where was it?"

"On the only clear spot on that damned dresser. Next to a picture of him and his brother."

The younger twin gave another nod, satisfied. "He has to wind it daily, I think. He'll notice soon enough. It should be enough to make a point."

"A few broken bones might make it better," muttered Lovino, as they stepped out into the hall. "Some blood, too. No one takes their blood lightly. Or we could barrow him for a few days."

Feliciano sighed. "We agreed if anyone had the right to do that, it would be me. My boyfriend is the one in the hospital, not yours. Unless they try something again, we're holding our ground. We're better than that Russian scum."

Lovino scowled, pocketing the watch. "Whatever, _idiota_. You're still too soft. Call _Nonno_ , tell him we're heading back with what we came for."

* * *

 ** _Nein_ \- no**

 ** _Opa_ \- grandpa**

 ** _per favore_ \- please**

 ** _amore_ \- love**

 **[]**

 **Please Review!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Enjoy!**

* * *

Lovino knocked on one of the heavy doors that made up the interior of Vargas house, turning the handle as he did and stepping into the room. He was pushing the door closed behind him when someone plucked his hat from his head, wrapping strong arms around his shoulders and pressing a kiss to his cheek.

"How goes it, Lovi?"

"Well enough," Lovino answered gruffly. "What are you doing?"

Antonio turned him around, lightly kissing his lips. "I need an excuse to kiss you, Lovi?" Then, sobering, he added, "I'm going home tonight. I won't stay away from _Nuevo Día_ forever."

Lovino wanted to argue, but he'd been with Antonio too long. He knew the Spaniard wouldn't change his mind on this. Still, he had to try. The idea of the green eyed idiot ending up like Ludwig was a painful one.

"Just give us another day, _bastardo pomodoro_. Give us the time to get it straightened out. We can make sure that Russian _bastardo_ knows it's not worth it."

Antonio was already shaking his head. "No. I know you will, Lovi. I believe that. But I won't hide in the shadows, not any more. I will live and work as I am. If they wish to try me, let them. They won't like what happens. Your people certainly didn't."

"The Russians are ruthless," protested Lovino angrily. "Don't you know that?"

"So are Italians," Antonio reminded him. "I've dealt with them in the past. I know."

When Lovino tried to protest further, Antonio kissed him gently, if firmly.

"I know what I'm doing, Lovi. I won't let them kill me so easily. I'm not asking you to simply trust I won't get myself killed. I'm asking you to let me live, Lovi. Besides, Carlos is bad about remembering to check the fridge when I'm not there, and Maria can't make accurate orders if he doesn't throw away the old stuff. Juan is supposed to come in for an interview tonight, I need to sign off on a liquor shipment, and-

Lovino kissed him just to get him to shut up. When he pulled away he muttered, "Fine, _idiota_. But I'm keeping guards on you too. I trust that Russian _bastardo_ as far as I can throw him."

Antonio chuckled, idly undoing the buttons of his shirt, one at a time, trailing kisses down the side of his neck. " _Gracias_ , Lovi. Now if I remember correctly, that date night was rudely interrupted, _sì?_ "

 **BREAK/BREAK\BREAK**

Feliciano kept a close eye on Ludwig after making a stop by the Vargas house. Roma came with him, to convince Germania to take a break. The older man had been by Ludwig's side for a full twenty four hours, he needed rest of his own.

Ludwig himself was back under the blissful influence of morphine when Feliciano returned. Germania only allowed himself to be pulled away from his grandson's side after Dr. Stanton came by to go over the CAT scan results. There was a mutual sigh of relief when the doctor informed him there was nothing to worry about, there hadn't been any severe trauma. Ludwig would still need to stay put for about a week, as a general precaution simply because his injuries had been so extensive. Feliciano knew he'd hate hearing that, but it was for the best. In the Italian's case, he'd grown up with first his mother then Roma insisting that they do as the doctor told them, be it swallow the yucky medicine or sit still for a shot. If he had to tie Ludwig to the bed, he'd stay, though he doubted it'd come to that. Germania had a similar philosophy, and he was a force to be reckoned with. People often thought Ludwig and Gilbert could be intimidating, Feliciano himself had once thought so, but it was a trait inherited from Germania, and they didn't have the age and experience to go with the front.

"I convinced Gilbert to stay with the shop," Germania told him, when the doctor had left. "He doesn't like it, says it's unawesome, but it's best to keep his hands busy. If he lets his mind stray too much, I wouldn't put it past him to attack the Russian's single handedly."

Feliciano nodded, smiling indulgently, agreeing with the sentiment. People often thought that Ludwig, the bigger, bulkier, and more mature of the two was the elder brother. It was the other way around, something that very quickly came to light as soon as Gilbert so much as sensed a threat to his baby brother. Feliciano knew he meant well, but he couldn't have the albino interfering.

"We are taking care of it," Roma said simply, guiding his lover out of the room. "Come on, you're no good to him if you run yourself into the ground. A hot meal, a hot bath...

The door clicked shut on their heels. Feliciano sighed, turning back to Ludwig. It was a little calming, the peaceful look on his face, but it was partly obscured by bandages and a still swollen eye. It was hard to find someplace to look that didn't show signs of his boyfriend's encounter with the Russians.

Feliciano scooted closer to the bed, reaching out to take his less injured hand once more. "We're fixing it, Luddy, like I promised. They won't do anything like this again. I'll make that dinner for you when you get out. Whatever you want, name it."

Ludwig didn't respond. Feliciano hadn't expected him to. He smiled, swallowing tightly as his eyes burned.

 _I won't let this happen again, Luddy. I won't._

 **BREAK/BREAK\BREAK**

Alfred yawned widely, fighting to keep his eyes open. He really, really wanted to just go to sleep, but he had a nagging feeling in the back of his mind. He was forgetting something, at least one something. What was it? It was important, or at least important enough to keep him from just nodding off like he usually did after a romp with Ivan.

His boyfriend had come back that afternoon, picking him up from work and taking him out to eat. Alfred wasn't very comfortable in the world with tuxedo-clad waiters and fancy wines, but Ivan had found a middle ground. Initially he'd tried taking Alfred to the richest places in town, but both the atmosphere and the fanciness of it all hadn't set well with his younger companion. Alfred didn't like the idea of someone spending so much on him, it made him uncomfortable. Besides, he was the sort of person who was much happier with a hearty burger rather than a three course meal that left him hungry an hour later and cost more than his paycheck.

Ivan had picked him up, taken him out to his favorite local place, then surprised him with tickets to the latest superhero movie. Alfred had been delighted, to say the least. He might pout when Ivan left for a week or so at a time at random, but he didn't mind much in the end. Especially since Ivan went out of his way to make it up to him when he got back. They'd gone back to his place after the movie, taking advantage of Mathew's absence. Ivan had then spent the next hour taking his sweet time in delivering extremely pleasurable torment, as was his habit. Alfred hadn't had a serious boyfriend prior to the Russian, and he'd been a bit uneasy in telling Ivan as much. The Russian had surprised him yet again when he'd treated his first time with reverence. Ever since, be it a quickie or a blowjob or a night in, Ivan persisted in making sure Alfred was smothering a scream of ecstasy when he was pushed over the edge.

Now Ivan was lying behind him, fingers idly combing though his hair. It felt nice, soothing. Mmm, could it wait, whatever it was? Probably...

Alfred's eyes flew open as he remembered. He started to get up, wincing a little, but a hand appeared between his shoulder blades, gently pushed him back down. Warm lips pressed to the back of his neck, his lover humming softly.

"What is it, Fredka?" Ivan asked lazily.

"The watch, I need to wind it," Alfred protested.

Ivan sighed, put rolled over, throwing his legs over the bed's edge. "Stay. I'll get it."

Alfred hesitated, then settled back down, watching as Ivan came around the bed to his dresser. Ivan knew about the watch, knew it was the most important thing he owned, knew the war story behind it. He'd watched Alfred wind it every night, he knew where to find it and to be careful with it. Even if he didn't, Alfred wasn't about to complain about the pleasant view.

The Russian yawned, poking through the mess on the dresser. After a minute he asked, "Isn't it usually in this box? The one with the old war medals and your pocket knife?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Did you leave it somewhere else?"

Alfred frowned, propping himself up. "No. It's not there?"

" _Nyet_ , it's not. Are you sure you didn't put it somewhere else? Your room is very messy."

Half falling out of bed, Alfred stumbled over to the dresser, panic starting to rise in his throat. "No, no I always put it here, I never take it out. Damn it, where is it?"

He rooted through the entire mess on the dresser, but couldn't find a trace of the watch. At first Ivan joined him, sifting through the clutter at a more reasonable pace. But when Alfred moved to turning his room upside down, checking his desk and bedside table, yanking open drawers, he stopped abruptly.

At first, Alfred didn't notice. He was too busy trying to find one of the few things his grandfather had left to him, his prized possession. How could he have lost it? He knew he was messy, careless, so that box had been a safe zone. He always kept it neat, if nothing else, and only took out the pocket knife. The watch had only left it to be wound at night.

"Alfred."

Normally, Alfred would have ignored him, or kept looking, but something in Ivan's tone made him stop. He straightened, turning to look back at him. The Russian had an odd look on his face, carefully blank, but his mouth was set in a tight line.

"What? What's wrong? Vanya?"

"Did anything...different, happen today?"

Alfred scratched his head. "I don't think so. Just you coming back." He thought about it, then snapped his fingers. "Oh yeah! That was the other thing I forgot. I was supposed to tell you your buddies said hi. They stopped by the bar this morning."

Ivan stiffened. "Buddies?" he repeated carefully.

"Yeah, these Italian guys. They were brothers, at least, maybe twins like me and Mattie. They said they were old friends of yours, asked how you were doing and stuff. Well, one of them did. He was nice. The other guy didn't say anything, just scowled a lot. They got some wine and talked for a little while. They said to tell you the Vargas brothers send their regards, whatever that means. What's that got to do with this?"

For a minute, Ivan didn't say anything. He stood very still, and Alfred could see the gears churning away. He waited anxiously, but knew better than to nag him. Ivan would reach a conclusion soon enough, so long as he didn't bug him. Whatever he was expecting, though, it wasn't for his boyfriend to turn away abruptly, grabbing his clothes from the floor.

"Hey, where you going?" he protested, following him around as he jerked them back on.

"Out. I need to take care of a few things. Stay here. Don't go anywhere until I call you."

"But I have to work tomorrow," Alfred protested, grabbing his boxers as Ivan stalked towards the door, pulling his shirt over his head.

Pausing long enough to pull on his shoes, Ivan started rattling off instructions. "No. You don't. You will call in sick. You will stay here until I tell you it is safe. You need to change the locks on your door, put more on your window, the one with the fire escape outside. Do you understand?"

"No, I don't. What's going on Ivan? What's got you so upset? Is this about the Italian dudes?"

" _Da_ , it is. Forget about them. If they try to approach you again, run the other way and call me."

Alfred trailed him to the door, still not satisfied. He understood Ivan was a privet person, tried not to be too nosey, but this wasn't normal business stuff. Something had Ivan spooked. Ivan never got spooked.

"Vanya, come on. Talk to me," he protested, grabbing his arm when the Russian grabbed his long coat.

Ivan stopped, finally, but then turned to take Alfred's face in his hands. "Listen to me very carefully, _pozhaluysta_ Alfred. Just do as I say. Wait until I say it's safe. Call Mathew, tell him to stay at Gilbert's until then. I can't explain now, just... _pozhaluysta_ Sunflower."

Alfred wavered, struggling to read Ivan's expression. "Okay. I'll call the landlord in the morning. I'll text Mathew. I can't promise anything about work, though. Just promise me you'll tell me what's going on, Vanya. You're worrying me."

Ivan smiled tightly, dipping in to kiss him gently. "Keep your word, and I will try to keep mine, Sunflower. Do you still keep that gun under your bed?"

"The Glock? Yeah, why?"

"Make sure it's loaded."

"It's always loaded," protested Alfred as Ivan opened the door. "You don't think someone broke in, do you? The door was fine, nothing else is missing. I probably just lost it or something."

"I will tell you later. Stay here."

With that, Ivan yanked the door shut, leaving a very concerned Alfred standing there in his underwear. For a moment, he thought about getting dressed and following him. He quickly shook it off, though, locking the door and trudging back to bed. Even if he wasn't still very sore, he trusted Ivan. He'd give him until tomorrow, at least. He'd call the landlord, get their lock replaced, stop by a hardware store on the way home for window locks. But he was still going to work tomorrow. He couldn't afford to take a day off.

Alfred flopped back onto his bed, turning off the lamp then pulling his phone from the nightstand. He shot Mathew a quick text, then rolled over, his previous drowsiness quickly returning. He was out before he could worry about the matter much more.

* * *

 ** _bastardo pomodoro_ \- tomato bastard**

 ** _Gracias_ \- thank you**

 ** _pozhaluysta_ \- please**

 **[]**

 **Please Review!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Shout out to Guest for this fic's first review!**

 **Last chapter, ladies and gents.**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

Feliciano was setting a homemade dinner in front of Ludwig when he got the call. While the German insisted that hospital food was fine, Feliciano didn't agree. He'd made some of Ludwig's favorite, bringing it in inside an insulated cooler so it would be warm whenever he woke up. Protests aside, Ludwig was obediently working his way through the meal when Feliciano stepped outside the room.

"We got his attention?" he asked, glancing around to make sure none of the nurses were nearby.

" _Sì_ , we got it alright. The Russian bastard sent us a message just now. He wants to meet at a neutral location. We're coming to pick you up. He wanted to speak with us personally."

Feliciano glanced at the door, chewing his lip. Ludwig hadn't been awake long. He'd wanted to stay, but...no, he had to go. He was a Vargas, and if it meant making things right over what had been done to Ludwig, it was the price he was willing to pay.

"Five minutes, Lovi. I'll meet you outside."

"We don't _have_ five fucking minutes."

He hung up, ignoring him. Feliciano stepped back inside, watching as Gilbert tried to cheer his brother up, occasionally trying to steal some of his food. Ludwig would slap his hand away, glaring at him whenever he tried. Well, it was a good sign, at least.

Taking a deep breath, Feliciano came back over, smiling. "I have to take care of something. Work, again. I promise to come right back."

Ludwig smiled patiently, but it faded as it seemed to click what Feliciano's words meant. He nodded stiffly. "Be careful," he warned, face grim.

Feliciano leaned up to kiss his cheek, smiling brightly. "Always, Luddy. Be back soon!"

 **BREAK/BREAK\BREAK**

Lovino was waiting in the car outside when Feliciano joined them, face set in a scowl. As the driver rolled forward, the younger of the two brothers asked, "What was the message?"

"A phone call, actually," said Roma, a thoughtful look on his face. "It was a little odd. He said we needed to discuss our recent activities. He sounded angry, which I wasn't expecting."

"He's the motherfucker that started all this," Lovino ground out. "We'd better get this fixed soon. Antonio's on his way home. No way I'm letting him end up in the room next to that potato bastard. Why couldn't the _bastardo_ have gone after a drug route like a normal fucker?"

Roma was rubbing his chin, eyes a little distant. "I'm not entirely certain he did. Didn't Alfred say he was out of town for this last week? Our sources confirmed it, he's been expanding his own trade, arranging a line farther west. He never bothers with an alibi when the attack is open like this."

"What the hell does that have to do with shit?" demanded Lovino.

Feliciano frowned, but didn't comment. He'd wondered, yes, but that didn't change the fact Ludwig had been badly hurt. That needed to be remedied. Quickly. Preferably with extreme prejudice.

The neutral ground the two Don's had arranged to meet at was a warehouse by the docks, one that had suffered a police raid just two weeks before. Prior to that, it had been used by the Mexican's for sorting and transporting drugs. It was in neither of their respective territory's, and still fresh from a police raid no one would have repurposed it yet.

Their driver pulled in outside, where another car was waiting. The three Vargas men stepped out into the cool air, expensive shoes gritting on old asphalt. Outside his own car, Ivan stood, waiting, face the same cheerful mask that drove many men mad with fear. He didn't have his pipe in hand, which Feliciano took as a good sign. Their people had swept the area, no sign of surveillance or an ambush, from the Russians or the police. It was just them and Ivan, it seemed.

Roma was the first to speak. "It's been some time since we've seen each other face to face," he said, polite even now."

"Not long enough. The only reason we meet now is to correct an error," said Ivan, smiling back. It was both childish and frightening in a way that never failed to send chills down Feliciano's back.

"Indeed. Cease fire's never last forever, but we didn't think it would be ended in such a way," said Roma, tone light. "Especially in such a manner. It's a very grievous error. But these streets have seen too much blood over the years already. I'd rather not have them see more of it, if it can be helped."

Ivan cocked his head. "Our reasons are different, old man, but our goal is the same. I am here because my sister is a reckless fool."

Feliciano turned this over. He remembered the message that the men had left Ludwig, 'Braginski sends their regards'. There were approximately three Braginski's in the city, but they'd just assumed it was Ivan. It wouldn't be Katyusha in a million years, so that left...

"Are you saying it as Natalia who ordered the attack? Not you?"

" _Da_. I had no knowledge of it until you targeted my Alfred. I know how you feel about blood, old man, and I doubted you'd simply decided to start a war on a whim. It seems my sister decided to be ambitious, try to intimidate you. She was a fool. My connections to Russia had been withering of late, I have sent her back to act as a more...potent liaison. She will not be coming back here for some time, and she will have plenty to do over there. I would have given you the men who she used, but I'm afraid I got carried away." He smiled sweetly. "I really do not like it when my men are disobedient. I had to get rid of several other followers too. Very messy. You understand. Also, I have gift."

Both the Vargas brothers stiffened, hands drifting to their respective weapons as Ivan reached into his coat. They relaxed only slightly when he pulled out a cloth bag. It wasn't very big, and it was lopsided, lumpy. The Russian tossed it to Roma, who caught it easily. Feliciano watched, tense, as his grandfather peered into the bag.

Dark brows arched. "It's nice to know you didn't forget us completely."

"For each finger broken, they lost," relayed Ivan, smiling as if explaining a delightful new game. "An eye for an eye, as it were. They were still alive when it was done, you can check. Consider it compensation for not getting to do the work yourself."

Roma nodded, then handed the bag to Feliciano. Curious now, he peeked inside. Fingers. A lot of them. All very bloody. The entire bag had double layers, the inner one soaked through with the stuff. He didn't have time to count them all, but it did look like six men had lost a hand's worth. He could have it checked to be sure they'd been alive at the time. Still not as good as doing the work himself, but it was as good as he was going to get.

Feliciano closed the bag, nodding. "A nice gift. _Grazie_."

"Indeed," agreed Roma personably, turning his attention back to Ivan. "It takes blood to oil a smooth ship, I'm afraid. But we still can't just let this slide, you know. Contrary to popular belief, there is some honor amongst thieves."

Ivan waited, chillingly sweet smile still on his face.

"Katyusha's bakery is near our boarder. Transfer her jurisdiction to us."

" _Nyet_."

Roma laughed. "You're not exactly in the best negotiating position. It was your people who broke the cease fire. We're well within our rights to start a war. But we're playing nice. Give us the bakery, and we'll call it even. For what it's worth, our people actually like Katyusha. If any harm did come to her, not only would we lose the best baker in town, we'd lose a very nice woman. So you see, she makes a very nice bargaining chip: neither of us want to hurt her. We'll even give you back the watch."

Ivan's eyes drifted down to Roma's hand as he pulled out the old brass watch, holding it out for him to see. The idea had been to ask for the bakery _and_ the people sent after Ludwig, but they'd known it would be a long shot to get the latter. Ivan had a very temperamental temper. Feliciano had once seen him shoot one of his men once simply for buying the wrong vodka. He would have preferred taking care of the men himself, but that was no longer on the table. At least he had the trophies, and within the day he'd also have the assurance they'd suffered at least that much. Katyusha was as good as they would get. Not only would they have the sister who wasn't crazy, they'd have her pastries. So long as no one told her she was being used as leverage, it would work out. The watch they'd decided to give back simply because they liked Alfred. They'd made their point already, anyway. There was no real reason to keep it. Besides, if things didn't work out between the two, he seemed like the sort to make a good ally.

"It is a deal. I will make the arrangements," said Ivan stiffly. He took one step forward, holding one hand out, palm up. "The watch."

Roma passed it to him, his smile more icy than usual. "Try to be more careful with your things. The more precious something is, the easier it is to break."

Ivan said nothing, just returning the very unfriendly smile as he stepped back again. Lovino yanked open the car door, sliding inside. Feliciano followed him, still keeping an eye on Ivan. He didn't understand how someone like Alfred could even stand to be near the man. The Russian was a monster, plain and simple. It didn't make sense.

Roma shook his head as they pulled away, keeping an eye on Braginski himself. "It's his own fault. You need to keep a firm hand on your own people. Especially if Natalia is one of them."

"Fucking bitch," muttered Lovino.

Feliciano sighed. "I still wish we could have dealt with those men personally."

"We can't have everything we wish for, Feli," Roma reminded him kindly. "But at least now we have assurance nothing like it will happen again. I think you can stop hovering over Antonio, Lovi," he said, giving his grandson a pointed look.

Lovino's scowl deepened, but he reluctantly called off the guards he'd had on Antonio the moment he'd set foot off their estate. Feliciano shifted in his seat, then called to the driver, "Take us back by the hospital."

" _Sì_ , boss."

Roma smiled kindly. "Ludwig will be fine. He's as strong and stubborn as his grandfather."

"That doesn't mean we should stop taking care of them," said Feliciano stiffly.

"You're right, you're right. I think I'll stay there as well. Perhaps I can take Germania's mind off things."

"Pervert," Lovino muttered.

"Oh, like you're any better?" laughed Roma

Lovino blushed, glaring at his grandfather. Feliciano cracked a smile. It was easier to relax now, yes, but he wouldn't sleep well until Ludwig was home again. Their home. His dogs were missing him too, but Feliciano didn't think he could bring them to visit. They might more or less own the place, but he still doubted the doctors would appreciate have three large dogs making a dash for their master.

 **BREAK/BREAK\BREAK**

Gilbert was gone again when they got to Ludwig's room. Germania was starting to nod in his chair, Ludwig dozing. Both woke as soon as the door opened, which Feliciano took as a good sign. They'd lightened his morphine dose a bit, at least. Germania looked tired, though. Roma sighed dramatically, coming over to pull him from the chair.

"You. Me. Dinner. Now."

"But-

"Now."

"Roma-

" _Subito_."

Germania was half dragged out the door, making Feliciano giggle. " _Mamma_ used to say he could rival an Italian house wife. She wasn't wrong. Now, how was your dinner?"

Ludwig regarded him carefully. "Something happened. What?"

"We fixed things."

Blond brows narrowed. "Tell me you didn't start a war over me."

"No, no war."

Feliciano perched on the edge of his bed, taking his hand. He relayed the bit about Natalia straying, and the resulting action Ivan had taken on his own accord. He left out the bit about their warning with Alfred, though. And the fingers. He'd dropped them off with a man they had in the labs, with orders to look for proof they had been removed antemortem. Ludwig might be a butcher by trade, but when it came to the violence of Feliciano's work, they had a sort of 'don't ask don't tell' policy set firmly in place.

"So now if you want, I can bring you some of Katyusha's delicious pastries for breakfast," he finished brightly.

Ludwig was still turning the new information over, saying idly, " _Ja, ja_. But are you sure that's it?"

" _Sì_ , that's it. Ivan didn't know, and he punished those who went behind his back. Very simple. Oh, and I finally met Mathew's brother. He's nice, but I think he'd drive you crazy."

"He can't be any worse than _Mein Bruder_ ," Ludwig said wearily.

Feliciano chuckled. "Eh, we'll see. Now, what do you think about trying to smuggle in the dogs? I'd have to do it one at a time, I think, but if I do it at night we could get away with it."

 **BREAK/BREAK\BREAK**

It was late when Lovino stepped into their house, shedding his hat and coat. "Antonio?" he called, sniffing. It smelled like his boyfriend was in the kitchen. Always a good sign.

A moment later, Antonio poked his head into the front hall, smiling brightly. "Lovi! I hope you're hungry. I made too much for just one."

Lovino frowned. "You knew I'd be home?"

"Of course."

"How?"

Antonio just winked, tapping the side of his nose. "Wash up and you can help me, Lovi." He pecked the Italian on the lips, then retreated to the kitchen again.

Lovino sighed. "Arrogant _bastardo pomodoro_."

"That's not nice," Antonio whined. "And I'm making tomato soup too. With the garlic cheese bread you like."

Shoulders drooping meekly, Lovino retreated to clean up. As much as he wanted to throttle his arrogant boyfriend...he made an amazing tomato soup, especially when the fruit was picked fresh from their garden. Not to mention the perfectly cheesy, perfectly crunchy, perfectly spiced bread he made to go with it. Lovino was something of a snob when it came to food, but Antonio was one of the few people who could produce dishes that were not only edible but delicious on a regular basis. At least by Lovino's standards.

Antonio was stirring the pot when Lovino joined him in the kitchen, peering into it thoughtfully. When he saw Lovino, he grabbed a spoon. "Taste, Lovi? I think I got it right."

The Italian took it, trying a spoonful. " _Va bene_ ," he said simply, nodding.

"Perfect timing. Take out the bread?"

Antonio puttered around, taking down bowels and setting the table. Lovino took the bread from the oven, carefully transferring it to the basket, cursing when it singed his fingers. He set the basket on the table, then poured them both some wine as Antonio filled both bowels with soup.

Lovino watched him work, feeling the tension gradually leave his shoulders. There was no such thing as safe, especially when you had ties to the mafia, but for now they were close enough. The main threat was neutralized, Antonio wasn't under immediate danger anymore. Lovino tried not to think about it much, especially in moments like this. Life was never as long as you thought it'd be, and he wanted to spend it with the Spaniard while he could, like this. In their house, pretending they were normal, doing things together.

"Lovi? What's wrong?" asked Antonio, cocking his head at him.

Lovino shook his head. "Nothing. Let's eat, I'm hungry."

 **BREAK/BREAK\BREAK**

Roma rested his head on Germania's chest, tracing patterns on one bare arm. "He'll be fine, you know. He's too much like you not to be."

Germania sighed, fingering the Don's silver streaked hair. "I know. But they're our children, our grandchildren. It's our curse to always worry."

"Don't I know it," chuckled Roma. "Still, it's nice to know I can take your mind off it."

"Is that what you call this?"

"You certainly weren't thinking about them a minute ago."

The German made a face.

Roma laughed, leaning up to kiss him slowly. "Mmm, think they'll be fine without us a little longer?"

His lover seemed to consider this, then leaned up to kiss him once more, rolling over to pin him down again. Roma relaxed, closing his eyes and returning the kiss as he tangled his fingers in long silver blond hair. It might be a more than 'a little longer', but he doubted anyone was going to complain.

 **BREAK/BREAK\BREAK**

"You found it!"

Ivan smiled faintly as Alfred took the watch, turning it over excitedly. Once assured it wasn't damaged, he started to wind it, not relaxing until he heard it ticking away again. Looking up to beam at Ivan, the Russian wondered for the hundredth time that night how he could possibly tell him. He wanted to crush Natalia's throat just for exposing Alfred to his work, never mind almost starting a costly and bloody war with the Italian's. Alfred was one of the most innocent, genuinely good people he'd ever met. He wanted to keep him that way, and away from the Bratva.

He was jerked from his thoughts as Alfred threw his arms around his neck, hugging him tight. Ivan hesitated, then slowly hugged him back, turning his face into the blond's neck. For all he knew, it would be the last time he could do it. What would Alfred say? What would he do? If he kicked Ivan out, demanded he leave the younger man alone, he would. Normally he ignored any and all orders, but for Alfred he would listen, obey, even if it broke his heart.

Stepping back a pace, hands on Ivan's shoulders, he asked, "So where was it?"

Ivan hesitated, then smiled. "Some friends mentioned thieves scouting the area. They take things they can pawn off, only a few things per place, so no one calls police. I made them give it back."

Alfred looked surprised. "Seriously? That's...why haven't I heard about this?"

"They were successful," Ivan said simply. "Like you, you thought you lost it, _da?_ "

He wasn't completely bought yet, but then he was also very happy to get the watch back, eyes focused on the thing, checking it all over. Ivan waited anxiously, getting more worried by the second. Alfred was a little oblivious, not stupid.

Eventually, though, he looked up at him and smiled. It wasn't a wide, beaming smile like before. It was a little more subdued, almost sad. "You're lying, Vanya. I think you'd lie more if you weren't so 'privet'. Just promise me I'm not some side bitch, and I'll be cool with you telling me in your own time."

Ivan stared at him, surprised. He'd wondered how long Alfred had known, but didn't dare ask. At the same time, he was still unwilling to tell him the full truth. Alfred had a very strong moral compass, yet he'd still stayed with him despite having doubts.

The Russian reached out, taking Alfred's face in his hands. Leaning down, he planted a kiss on his lover's lips, slow and gentle, but undoubtedly firm. "Never, my Sunflower. There is only you. I swear it."

Alfred's real smile returned. He leaned up a little, placing a light peck on Ivan's lips before pulling away. As he went to return the watch to his room he asked, "So, ya in the mood for Chinese or pizza?"

The Russian watched him disappear into the next room, cracking a small, weary smile. "I think today deserves treat. Put on shoes, I will take you to McDonalds."

The blond poked his head back out, face returning to the wide beaming smile that lit up his entire face. "Really? What happened to once a month only?"

Ivan chuckled. "Like I said, Sunflower, long day. McDonalds, ice-cream, and vodka."

"You're on!" crowed Alfred, ducking back into his room. He reappeared mere seconds later, hopping as he tried to stuff his feet into his sneakers. "What are the chances of me out drinking you this time?"

"None."

"Challenge excepted, Vanya! Come on, let's go."

Ivan let himself be dragged out of the apartment, stopping long enough to make sure Alfred locked the door. Ivan worried, and not unduly. As the Italians had proved, getting to Alfred wasn't impossible. The idea that someone would lay a hand on him was...unbearable.

Natalia was out of the country. The Italian's were satisfied with their treaty. His remaining men were now acutely reminded of what happened if you turned on the boss. For the moment at least, Alfred was safe. Maybe he could ease him into what it was he did. Alfred had proven to be vigilant, when he was actually aware of a threat. If he knew what to be weary of, he'd be much harder to touch.

But he would worry about that later. Alfred loved McDonalds and ice-cream with the same childlike enthusiasm he gave comic books and video games. Ivan found it oddly endearing, like many of Alfred's other quirks. He knew that, at least here in a America, he shouldn't be drinking vodka, but then he could swing it as well as a Russian. His competitive nature meant that every time Ivan indulged him, he'd try to out-drink the man, thus far with no luck. It was cute, actually, and he was quite funny when he was drunk. It had indeed been a very long day, long and bloody and draining. It was getting late, almost midnight, but it was going to be worth it. If nothing else, at least it would end on a high note.

* * *

 ** _Subito_ \- now**

 ** _Mein Bruder_ \- my brother**

 ** _Va bene_ \- it's good**

 **[]**

 **Thanks for reading!**

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